


sunbeams rainy day chillin

by milkyway_starboy



Category: Blaseball (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, pure fluff, the sunbeams won so they deserve soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:47:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27205444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milkyway_starboy/pseuds/milkyway_starboy
Summary: hahn goes to a cool fun hangout chill time with the other sunbeams! it's soft and fluffy!
Relationships: Lars Taylor/NaN (mentioned)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	sunbeams rainy day chillin

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to friends in the sunbeams server who helped out with some lore n other details, n of course gave encouragement!

it was a dark and stormy nigh-- er, well. it  _ would _ be dark if sun2 wasn’t currently the largest object in the sky (the black hole having moved on somewhere else for the time being). and while it  _ is _ storming, it’s nowhere near the kind of storms hahn fox is used to - water has been replaced with blood, and the sky is absolutely clear of any clouds whatsoever. the newest member of the hellmouth sunbeams doesn’t let that deter her, though, as she steps out the door of her apartment to make her way to the solarium. despite the rain, it’s still a smoldering 93 degrees outside, so her hellmouth community college shorts and plain white tank top are accessorized with a light blue umbrella branded with the miami dale logo.

by the time she reaches the stadium, her high tops and calves are splattered with blood from the puddles she may-or-may-not have enthusiastically jumped in on the way there. hahn shakes the umbrella dry as she steps into sigmund’s entryway, leaving it and her shoes on the rack by the door and then padding sock-footed through the stone halls. 

“fair ev’ning, mad’me hahn, and come well ‘nto mine hom’ly halls.” sigmund castillo’s voice echoes from everywhere and nowhere, somehow soft despite the reverberations. “thine own fr’ends dost await th’ne pres’nce upon th’ couchés in the th’rd parlor.”

“thanks, sig,” she replies, patting one of the cool stone walls.

eventually, the sound of soft beatles music reaches her ears, emanating from somewhere further down the hall, and then she enters the third parlor. there’s no windows for the sunbeams lounging within to see the definitively  _ not _ dark and stormy night outside, but sandoval crossing absolutely notices the blood on hahn’s legs as she enters. “is it raining?” they ask, smiling softly at her as they pass her a handkerchief.

“yep! not too bad though.” she wipes the blood off with the handkerchief and pockets it, flopping down onto the bean bag pile. the sudden addition of a new body causes the other three bodies already occupying the pile to tumble into her. lars’ soft giggle merges with zack’s indignant “hey!” merges with dudley’s faint sloshing. “sorry,” hahn says, absolutely not sorry as she makes herself comfortable.

dudley shrugs and hands her a can of diet mlountain dew. “thanks duds.” she cracks it open, the sound echoing through the room as the record player starts to skip at the end of the album. hendricks and nerd, who had previously been discussing (in somewhat prolonged detail) small-scale economics in highly isolated communities, turn together to the large case of vinyl to find the night’s next set of tunes.

their bickering eventually draws the ire of the moon roomba. it fires its ray at hendricks first - since he is larger and therefore louder - and the dragon just narrowly avoids being vaporized because of the mere coincidence of a stuffed panda toy flying in front of the beam at the last second. ah, wait, that wasn’t coincidence: that was nagomi walking into the room. does anyone hear a jojo meme?

lars claps politely (and quietly) at nagomi’s stellar save and then pats the bean bag pile. nagomi refuses politely and instead perches on the back of the couch that sandy, sutton, and eugenia are sharing. eugenia is enthusiastically attempting to explain the finer details of cactus care to the goose, who keeps flailing its tentacles into the cactus and squawking indignantly. sandy occasionally reaches over to placate sutton, patting the top of its head gently until it becomes marginally less agitated; otherwise, the team dad is preoccupied with their book about “tennis”.

in another corner of the room, miguel james has managed to draw the attention of moonba back to their talk about hats. james’ soft voice explains how the glimmering fabric of her latest hat has been treated extensively in order to grant it exceptional flame resistance. igneus’ attention to the speech is just as rapt as the moonba’s, since he’s lately been considering jumping on the fashionable hat bandwagon too, and has run into the same problems that james has been facing for years. iggy starts to ask about other colors of fabric, and james’ face lights up (metaphorically as well as literally) as they expound their knowledge.

hahn sighs happily, eyes closing after having surveyed the entirety of the room and team. sure, she’s the newest here, but it doesn’t feel like it any more. she’s as comfortable with the other sunbeams as they are with her - casual and cozy and calm here inside the sentient castle. lars’ shoulders move with laughter again, and she peeps one eye open to look at him. he’s reading a comic on his phone, something with bright colors and hardly any words; a new message pops up at the top of his screen and she only has time to recognize the sender icon as nan before his speedy hands type out a response and the communication disappears.

she nudges lars’ shoulder, gives them a cheeky grin and pointed eyebrow gesture towards their phone, and laughs quietly at the orange blush on their cheeks as they pull their head down into the collar of their footy pajamas so that only their eye is showing. (the pajamas in question are of course the colors of a parakeet and look super cute on lars.) she settles again, ruffling lars’ hair affectionately.

zach hands hahn a book of poetry. “it’s pretty good. most of it is about the sea.” there’s a tone of understanding in the pitcher’s voice, smile soft and distinctly upside down due to hahn’s place on the bean bags and zack’s place propped up over her.

“thanks,” she says, opening the book to the first page. the first poem is about cuttlefish and hahn is absorbed immediately.

sigmund regards the members of his team in the unknown and maybe-a-little-weird way of his. there’s a slight groaning of stone as the castle settles more decisively into his spot on all four bases, and then rests. it is good.

**Author's Note:**

> hellooooo blaseballers!!! i am here to write soft shit about our fave teams n players. also sometimes angsty shit. kudos n comments give me life! STARE INTO THE SUN, THE SUN STARES BACK.


End file.
